


Take Care

by HarpiaHarpyja



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Comfort Sex, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Force Bond (Star Wars), Inappropriate Use of the Force, Lazy Sex, Masturbation, One Shot, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Sweet/Hot, Vicarious Sexual Pleasure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-20
Updated: 2019-03-20
Packaged: 2019-11-26 01:40:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18174152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HarpiaHarpyja/pseuds/HarpiaHarpyja
Summary: Rey finds Ben awake in the middle of the night and in need of some gentle reminders.





	Take Care

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Baby_babushka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baby_babushka/gifts).



> Written as part of the Reylo Gifts exchange, for infaredeker’s beautiful piece ['Tender'.](https://twitter.com/infaredeker/status/1099769195405836288)
> 
> Very special thanks to SpaceWaffleHouseTM, Daisyflo, and Leoba: Noted Praise Kink Authority for giving this a readover!

When he wakes Rey always feels it. By now she knows that she can usually ignore it. No cause for alarm. She can just drift back off and be assured he will follow, warm and secure at her side. Tonight he isn’t at her side at all. The vague pulse of their bond in sleep sputters with doubt and won't be still. Eyes heavy, she stares at the dark rectangle of the wall for a few moments, feeling that pulse out, analyzing. It feels like the fading of a nightmare half-remembered. Sometimes she sees them too and wonders if he’ll ever not have them. A storm of hateful things— _monster, creature, weak, disappointing_ —she hopes he no longer believes are true. 

Sometimes he needs a reminder. Rey slides toward the wall, sits up slowly, and turns the light on.

The recycled air in the ship is stale and still smells faintly of sex, but it’s cool on her skin, too. Comfortable enough to make love, to sleep, to kick the sheet aside and crawl across the narrow bed to him where he’s sitting at the edge. She presses a palm to the pale plane of his shoulder blade.

“Ben?”

It is perversely satisfying to know he might still shiver at the sound of her saying just his name. He does it tonight, and she takes it as reason to draw closer to him, arms around his shoulders, breasts pressed to his back, face resting against his neck. He's warm all over, sleep-warm, like she is. Ben relaxes into her embrace, and his cheek rests against her forehead.

“You don’t need to get up,” he says. His voice is still thick.

Rey huffs. “Bit late for that. I already did.” She squeezes his shoulder when he gives a soft chuckle. “Come back with me.”

At this hour, in this place, in her arms, he’s easy to convince. She doesn’t have sleep in mind, not quite yet, and she can tell he doesn’t either. He lets her kiss his mouth, his neck, his shoulder, then watches her retreat to the pillows. She settles back against them, curved into them, her legs stretched across the bed, and she catches the way his eyes trace the lines of her body in the dim lamp glow, checking to make sure she's really there before he moves to join her. He settles against her, propped lazily by her body like he never left her arms to begin with. This is how he gets—a need to touch her, keep her close and where he needs her to be as she does the same to him.

She nuzzles the side of his neck. More shivers. His hair tickles her nose and smells of shampoo, and it’s so generic and unremarkable, but it’s one of her favorite feelings, one of her favorite smells. Under her palms, his chest muscles twitch. She spreads her fingers and starts to rub gently, digging a bit with the heels of her hands after a few passes back and forth.

“What do you need?” The words are a sinuous thread straight from her lips to his ear.

“This.”

“What else?” His head lolls to the side as he inhales deeply, his chest expanding under her fingers, and she presses a slow, sucking kiss to his exposed neck. “Tell me.”

“You.”

She glances away, down his body, sprawled and naked and beautiful. The toes of his right foot are curled a little; she’s not sure he realizes he does that when he's beginning to feel aroused. Every time. 

She cups a hand over his pectoral and lets her thumb brush over his nipple, once, twice, pinches it lightly until he expels that breath in a long sigh. The other hand she draws through his hair, nails scraping. “Is that all?”

He doesn’t answer with words this time. He’s harder by the moment, and his hand moves slowly toward his groin to encourage it. Too slowly. Like he’s waiting.

“Do you want to?” She slides her hand from his chest, light and teasing down his stomach, watches the changes her touch provokes—flex of his abdomen, tension of his thighs, stiffening of his cock, shuddering release of breath. “Take care of yourself? You should.”

Seeing him so completely comfortable in his vulnerability sends a wave of heat through her, and she nudges herself against his back. She likes to see him being good to himself. The way he is to her.

“Why?” 

Even now he’s all cheek—the corner of his mouth twitches with the shadow of a smirk, and she presses her lips there to keep it in check. She knows what he wants to hear, so she brings her lips right to his ear again because it’s only for him to know.

“Because you're so good, Ben.” The moan it draws from him is nearly as quiet as her words. Rey wraps her arms more tightly around him and presses her palms over his heart. She can feel the rapid beat of it through his back as she caresses his chest again. Watching would be enough, but she likes to feel him, too. “And you deserve to feel good.” 

He grasps himself, and as his hand moves in slow, purposeful strokes, Rey catches the moment the pleasure truly begins to sing through him. It’s a warm tingle over her skin at first, then a fleeting sense of submersion that steals her breath. It isn’t the sensation itself that overwhelms so much as the fact that it’s his and he’s letting her share it. If it is good and he is good then it’s hers to have, and she would float away in it if she could. 

He’ll take his time for her. His hand rises and falls in a lazy rhythm. Rey knows what his hands are capable of. The precision of long, dexterous fingers rubbing, tripping, curling. The potential for strength whittled down to the deliberate gentleness of a thumb tracing or a palm pressing just so. There are times when she wishes she knew what she feels like to him, and maybe this is close. An echo of what he experiences right now, lighting her nerves and heating her blood: her voice in his ear, her warmth at his back, the lightness that spreads as his grip tightens. He drives himself harder with a more forceful pump that makes his hips jerk as he thrusts upward, one foot planted on the mattress, toes still curling, an animal sort of moan vibrating through his back into her chest.

She presses her mouth his shoulder and murmurs into his skin how perfect he is like this, how good he feels, how she feels it too and he’s all hers. Her eyes are locked on his hand at work on himself. It's almost hypnotic as she absently traces the scar that snakes down his pectoral with the back of her nails, a path she’s memorized with hands and mouth. Ben is being unusually quiet. The only sounds over the hum of the ship are those of his skin on his skin on her skin and their soft huffing breaths coming faster. His cock is flushed dark as a pearly drip of precum rolls down the shaft, caught by his thumb and smeared on the next stroke. 

There’s a bead of sweat at his temple—she takes it with the tip of her tongue and kisses the spot. His skin is damp, and so is hers, his breathing harder and louder, his movements less measured, more erratic. Each time he tenses now she knows he’s holding back. The air between them wavers with waiting and wanting.

“Rey—” His free hand grasps at the sheets beside him, and she reaches for it to twine her fingers through his. He’s looking at her out the corner of his eye. “If you want me inside you when I come, now’s the time to tell me.”

It’s tempting, but it isn’t what she needs right now. “No. This is good. This is what I want.” Her teeth brush against his earlobe. “You’re doing so well. Keep going. Just like this.”

He draws it out a little longer, drunk on her praises, and when he climaxes it’s with a single sharp cry that makes him sink against her, eyelids fluttering, lips pink and wet, cheeks high-colored. There’s cum slicking his hand and streaked over his groin and belly. A few drops have settled across her knuckles from when she dragged a hand down his abdomen in the moments just before. It’s still hot when she licks it away, lightheaded from the residual flare of his release and how urgent the need for her own release has become in its place. It’s suspended, just within reach.

The heaviness of Ben’s body over her is grounding, even as she eases her hold on him and he twists around to kiss her. 

“Feel better?” she mutters against his lips. 

His answer is a low, delirious snicker and a palm fondling her breast before he sucks her bottom lip against his teeth and breaks away. Before she can chase him for more, his hands are hooked behind her knees and he’s turning her, straightening her out and pulling her further down the bed like she weighs nothing at all, a boneless, nerveless thing. His hair is hanging in his eyes and his mouth is the wide, satisfied grin of someone who’s just finished a rich meal and still has dessert to look forward to. 

“I will. When we’re finished here.”

“Oh?” Rey bites her lip and squirms when he pinches the underside of her thigh. A moment later he strokes the same spot with a feather-light touch. His warm breath over her belly makes her quiver as he coaxes her legs apart.

“Your turn. Let me take care of you.”


End file.
